


Blue Hawaii

by mtvluke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Angst, Closeted Character, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-01-29 07:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtvluke/pseuds/mtvluke
Summary: In the midst of the 1960s, two men keep finding their way back to each other under intriguing circumstances. What follows may be quite the adventure.Cas finds himself amongst the storm of the century, and in a last-minute effort, he seeks shelter at a little farmhouse in the distance. Little does he know that this minuscule decision will soon turn his world upside down, as begins to fall in love with the stone-cold man whose past is more than just enigmatic. Between all the hiding from the shadows of their past and present, they somehow create the most beautiful love story of all time.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	1. November 1968

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time publishing a work that isn't 5sos, and it's been a little while since i've posted on here so i'm sorry if it's a bit rusty! i hope you enjoy anyways! :)

The night wept soft droplets of water, each one hitting against Castiel’s face while he walked along the gravel road. He pulled his jacket closer to his body, white fingers gripping the fabric in hopes to keep out the bitterly cold air. Luckily, for him it the storm hadn’t truly started.

His feet trudged along, the sound of dragging and tired footsteps blended in with the soft patter from the rain and quiet whistle from the wind. His eyelids were getting heavy and his skin began to hurt from the cold, he couldn’t imagine things could get any worse. But, he seemingly spoke or more so, _thought_ too soon. He tumbled over the sopping and dirty shoelaces from his sneakers, ultimately dooming him into a fall as he skidded along the rough, wet gravel. A sigh was drawn from his lips in pain, as he slowly began to clamber onto his back letting the sting from the gravel scrapes take away from his problems for a moment.

It felt good like this sometimes. In fact, it was one of the only times things felt good to him. The clouds covered the dark depths of space leaving Castiel to question his existence. He didn’t know if this was a reflex of being lonely or if the universe seemed to be uncanny at that moment. The sting began to fade yet, the existential questions were left lingering. As he began to climb to his feet, brushing off the tiny rocks that were dug into his hands, the seemingly all-important questions slipped from his mind in a moment-worth as he caught sight of something. 

In the distance, he could make out a little farmhouse and relief washed over him. Out here places were few and far, separated between acres of land and luck just happened to be on his side. The rain began to get worse now, seemingly ironic as thunder boomed in the darkened distance, his feet carrying him faster and faster until he found himself on the rickety porch.

He felt uneasy and hesitant, as though he shouldn’t even risk it. People had been going missing, and everyone became much more cautious about who and what is passing through. _Not very beneficial for a nomad_. Though, he really didn’t want to find out how much worse the storm was gonna get or how close the next place would be. 

He let his battered fingers linger and trace the old wooden door for a moment before clenching them into a fist and knocking on the door a few times softly. He silently wished he had the time, ballparking it to be close to eight o’clock as the dark had settled in around him. The pause of silence was used in reminder to himself that he needs to get a watch. _Well,_ that is when he can afford one.

Then, he heard a few steps and some shuffling behind the wood before it swung open. A man answered, his green eyes piercing while he scanned that stranger who stood on his porch. He had this softness in his face that Castiel couldn’t quite describe yet, he was taken aback when the man spoke up in an intimidating tone. 

“Is there something you need, kid?” The man asked, brow furrowed as his eyes darted all over him in a protective stare, almost as if to tell him to fuck off and get off his property. Castiel felt intimidated immediately, his bottom lip falling while his mouth hung open in efforts to say something that wouldn’t come. 

“The rain- uh, I fell and, it’s cold and stormy. I just need a place to stay for one night. '' The words tumbled off his tongue before he could even think of what to really say, his black hair soaked and sticking onto his face like gum to a floor. His cuts stung his skin, his body battered up. Time seemed to pass slowly and with it he became more aware of the situation he was in, wishing he had never brought his fist against the door.

_Idiot_, _complete_ _idiot_, he thought to himself. 

This man could be a killer, and Castiel wasn’t the biggest guy, the man could easily take him down if he wanted. He snapped through his thoughts to find the man holding the door in his clutch, seemingly in his own battle of thoughts.

He watched as he seemed to be conflicted whether to let this complete stranger into his home, and Castiel could understand. If a random guy showed up on his porch in the middle of the evening he would probably be in the same situation. Though he must’ve not seen the blue-eyed man as much of a threat since he still chose to step aside, eyes painful piercing Castiel. 

“You can stay one night but that’s it, I’m no charity and you better introduce yourself”. The man's voice was smooth like honey, an eyebrow raised in question awaiting an answer. Castiel studied the man for a second, and he seemed to truly be the epitome of perfect. He never thought he’d see it himself, it was almost like he was just glowing. He couldn’t help but get a little lost in his thoughts. That is, until, he realized he had been asked a question. 

“Castiel. My name is Castiel Novak. '' The man watched as he outstretched a hand before shaking it with a tight grip, speaking up again. 

“Well, Castiel... I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my home,” Dean gently opened the door wider, allowing Castiel to walk into the warmth and shelter of his home, “Try not to break anything.” 

“Thank you so much, again” He stepped passed Dean cautiously, eyes darting around the room to get any kind of information on this guy he could. He really didn’t want to be staying the night with a killer or whatever people are these days. Though, he also didn’t really feel like dealing with his intrusive thoughts at the moment so he let his train of thought take him somewhere else, feet moving with him. 

An oak grandfather clock stood against one of the walls of the living room, keeping a steady pace of tick-tocking. A few picture frames were scattered along the wooden walls, two boys, one definitely being Dean just from looking at the features but the other boy he didn’t recognize. Dean must’ve picked up on the curiosity emitting from Castiel, walking up beside him to look at the portrait.

“That’s my little brother, Sammy” Dean spoke, a little smile crooked on his face. Castiel glanced over at the man, before looking back to the photo once again.

“Does he live here as well?” He asked, an eyebrow-raising while his eyes studied each detail of the picture. He saw the brightness in Dean’s eyes even then, the boy next to him sharing the same toothy smile. The picture radiated a strong wave of nostalgia.

Dean looked over at him and let his smile fall, shaking his head sheepishly. His silence was almost aching, Castiel wishing that once again he could rewind time and unsay the stupid things that seem to come out of his mouth. He cleared his throat in hope to relieve some of the awkward tension, letting it segway into a different topic. 

“It’s a wonderful little place you have here” Castiel moved away from the picture, as he walked back into the middle of the living room. A radio played a random rock n'roll station softly, letting it pour into the room and echo off the walls. 

Dean cleared his throat, letting the radio take place in response for him before he motioned down the hallway, speaking up, “Follow me, you can get set up,” he glanced at Castiel while his lips parted to say something, “There’s just a little problem, there’s only one bed and it happens to be mine, you fine on the floor?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapters, i split them up just for the beginning! as i get further into the story they will get longer :)
> 
> have fun reading!!

A bit of time had passed since Dean showed Castiel the room and helped him get set up. Though, Castiel sat on the blankets that laid on the floor alone, fingers brushing against the rough fabric in a state of thought. Once again, the loneliness had started to creep up on him and the rain pelting against the window was just a reminder that he didn’t really have anywhere to be or to go. It was a weird feeling, not having a permanent destination. Everyone always had somewhere to go, but not him.

He felt almost like a ghost, translucent to anyone around him. He simply passed through town and town again, never finding a place that felt like home to him. Though, there have to be tons of people in their twenties in the same position, _right_?

He didn’t feel like answering that question, maybe not having enough knowledge or not wanting to know the answer.

A soft knock was heard against the door, drawing him out of his intrusive thoughts. He almost let out a sigh of relief, glad to be taken out of his mind.

“You can come in” Castiel spoke before the door opened slowly to reveal Dean poking his head through.

“Everything okay? You’ve been in here a while.” The question almost made the blue-eyed man burst out into laughter. Dean was probably just getting nervous as he hadn’t left the room since he had shown him where to get settled. Yet, he still managed to put a smile on his face while giving him a soft nod, rubbing his clammy palms against the fabric of his jeans.

“Yeah-yeah, I’m good. I just got caught up in my thoughts is all.”

Castiel opened his mouth, some part of him wanting to let every word of truth pour from his lips. He wanted to tell this man everything that had gone wrong within a span of a few months, he wished it was that easy. But again, he kept his thoughts to himself, he'd be gone this time tomorrow and back on the road. Dean gave him a crooked smile, motioning with his head down the hallway.

“Come on, I made some supper” And just like that, Dean was gone as quick as he came.

Castiel got onto his feet, his legs feeling like jello from the amount of walking he had done the day prior. He had a car once, and things had been much easier when he did but that felt like ages ago and Castiel had changed along time. The wafting smell of dinner kept his feet carrying him to the kitchen before he could even continue to think.

There stood Dean, two bowls in hand as he turned to walk away from the stove. He then chose to slide into one of the dining chairs comfortably as though this had been his routine his entire life, setting the two bowls down on opposite ends of the table. His blue eyes studied the bowl before he was snapped into reality by the sound of the other man’s voice.

“I didn’t do anything to it, I swear it was the only thing I got. Now sit down and eat up, Cas.” Dean let his fork stab into a glob of melty cheese and noodles before shoveling it in his mouth. Castiel slid into the other dining chair while watching the man devour the piping hot noodles bunch by bunch, the nickname taking him by surprise. _Cas_. He wonders why he never thought of that before.

Though, that thought was quickly dissolved by the man sitting in front of him. He thinks this is the closest to Dean he’s been yet, as he can see every little detail across his face. He sees the spots of freckles, dusted over his nose and cheeks. He sees the little wrinkle lines and Cas can almost make out the memories of summers in the sun, a crinkled smile wide on Dean’s lips as he splashes into the cool lake and sunbathes in the throbbing heat of a July afternoon.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and Cas wonders how the hell someone can look so perfect when doing the most simple human of things.

Though, when Dean looked up and green eyes met blue he saw something else in him. There was a wrenching pain hidden behind the shine in his eyes. _How come he didn’t see it before?_ Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably and broke the silence, noticing that Cas hadn’t even dared to touch his food. Motioning to the food once again before cocking his head towards the man across the table, he chuckled.

“I _promise_ I didn’t do anything to it” Dean’s voice soothed though it brought a smile to Cas’ lips as his cut-up fingers reached for the fork, letting it twirl between them for a second before stabbing the noodles and bringing them to his lips.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had actually eaten something that resembled such a meal, let alone something piping hot and gooey with cheese. A moan was stifled by Cas, not wanting to embarrass himself any further than what he had already done.

“So…” The word rolled off Dean’s tongue, dragging out each sound but the silence between was still unsettling, “Why are you running out in a storm like this, at such an ungodly hour?”

The energy in the room immediately shifted, the air growing thicker as Cas’s gaze and smile dropped in sync, suddenly becoming incredibly interested in the bowl of half-eaten dinner that sat in front of him. He moved his fork through the noodles, his appetite beginning to dissipate into the thoughts that ran through his brain.

Dean watched him from across the table, his smile falling just as Cas’s had before him. His hand instinctively reached for the back of his neck, scratching at it with a nervous chuckle. Cas simply gave a dry smile to the man, almost apologetic. Cas stood up slowly, reaching for Dean’s and his dishes.

“Go ahead and relax, I can wash the dishes. I’m gonna call it an early night anyway, it’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.” He lingered next to Dean as the man looked up at him, seemingly caught up in the events that had happened just within the last minute. As their eyes caught the world froze for a second, and it was just them, in this house, at this moment. No one else in the world existed, just the two of them floating in time and space caught up in the rush of feelings. Neither of them knew how much time had passed before Dean snapped himself out of it, immediately pushing himself out of his chair and grabbing the dishes out of the other man’s hand.

“I got them, go on to bed. Goodnight.” The sound of Dean receding towards the sink was the only echo of sound in the big house, leaving a confused Cas who’s gaze followed with every step. Blue eyes burned into the back of Dean’s head, the anxiety beginning to pulse through the man’s veins as he scrubbed at the dishes relentlessly. He heard a quiet change of direction followed by the sound of shuffling as the footsteps grew quieter, the echo of the door shutting softly reverberating through the now, once again, lonely house.

He set the half clean bowl back into the sink, tan hands going to grip the edge of it. His head hung over the porcelain, almost wanting to laugh at how ridiculous this was. He reached for the dishtowel, lazily drying his hands off before turning to face the ill-lit hallway, a single stream of light coming from under the bedroom door.

Leaning his back towards the sink, he questioned how he could’ve possibly got himself into this position in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be more intimate and hopefully longer than any of the others! ;) i hope you guys like it!  
thanks for reading!

He threw down the towel, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. Making his way to the door, he knocked softly, as if any other amount of pressure would cause it to come crumbling down. Just as quickly, it swung open to reveal Castiel with a brow furrowed.

Dean couldn’t bring the words out of his mouth, eyes focused on the man that stood in front of him. The little cuts stood out against his pale complexion, dark circles underlining his weary eyes. He could see the remnants of a dull, tired spark within the swirling blue. His black hair was feathered and disheveled, and all Dean could see was the man anxiously running his long fingers through the tufts of hair replaying in his mind.

“I-”, Dean started, before letting his lips come together again with a hand following to rub at the scruff along his jaw. Opting to just slide past Cas into the room, the man’s things littered around making everything feel different. Almost less lonely.

“I hope you don’t mind, I just unpacked for the night. I don’t have much so you shouldn’t have to worry.” The voice of the man next to him began reeling Dean back to reality, green eyes shifting from each object before carefully setting it’s place on Cas.

“No, no, not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” Dean shook his head, choosing to rest his body and sit on the old creaky bed. An awkward silence pooled within the gap, both men sitting and pretending to be preoccupied with their hands or the ragged clothes that were folded much too neatly.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed. Just gonna”, he took a slight pause, lips parted slightly, “brush my teeth real quick.” The words fell all too quickly from the blue-eyed man’s lips. His pale, scraped hands dug through the small bag he had brought before pulling out a toothbrush and a mini container of toothpaste, gripping it in a fist.

Dean watched as Cas turned on his heel and walked into the bathroom. They shared a soft glance before the door swiftly shut and the water turned on.

The thoughts that pulsed through Dean’s mind, the feelings the flooded his system. It almost felt like all too much. He didn’t meet new people very often. Whether it was because he was a recluse, hiding within the comfort of his home except for work and errands he’d run.

Or because this town seemed too small, almost suffocating at times. Some days Dean woke up and wondered what things would’ve been like if he was born in a big city like New York or Los Angeles. Or the person who he would’ve been if he traveled to Europe after he graduated like he was planning to- before Sammy got sick.

He thinks, maybe he would’ve been married by now. A kind girl with ringlets of dark hair framing her face, falling along her shoulders and down her back. The brightest smile, with lips of luscious pink framing them. Maybe even a couple of kids with a dog, all living in the perfect picket fence world.

Being twenty-nine, single and without family, Dean became the outcast of the town. Not that it mattered, it honestly didn’t bug him too much. People were going to think what they wanted, and Dean wasn’t going to change his life for people who he didn’t give a damn about.

Slowly, the water came to a halt in the bathroom and the silence was louder than ever. Dean’s eyes studied the door, eyeing each crevice and swirl in the patterned wood. As the door swung open suddenly, he quickly averted his gaze back to his hands hoping the other man hadn’t quite realized the googly-eyes he had been giving the door. Or more or so who was behind the door.

“I’m done if you…” Cas trailed off, his voice suddenly becoming lost as he watched the man in front of him. He seemed so unsure of himself, the way his fingers curled in on each other. His eyes held so much emotion, swirling within the pools of emerald. He chose to slowly make his way over to the man, settling himself down onto his pile of blankets on the floor.

“Is everything alright?” Cas’s soft voice echoed through Dean’s mind.

Normally Dean would close himself off the first second he got. After Sammy, everything seemed harder. Not just the big things. In fact, it was the smaller things that were more painful. When Dean would go to set the table, he’d have the looming reminder that it was just him, all alone. Sometimes he’d be out working on the Impala and he’d call out his name, with a simple moment of realization that no one was there. Maybe it was that he had gotten used to it after all this time, or maybe it was the fact that he was scared to open himself up to someone again.

Yet, sitting here on his rickety bed, eye to eye with a stranger. He couldn’t help but feel relieved in a way. Being alone was exhausting and maybe he didn’t realize it, but it was nice to have someone around for a change.

“It’s different. I don’t usually talk to many people, easier to stay out of their way and they’ll stay out of mine. Though, it’s nice having someone here for once. So… thank you I guess?” He couldn’t bring himself to look Cas in the eye. It felt weak, and even though there was part of him telling him to hold on to this moment, to not let go until his fingers turned white and contorted with cramps, he couldn’t bring himself to let it last any longer.

“I-” Cas let the word roll right off his tongue, and as much as Dean wanted to hear the comforting words of the scruffy man that sat in front of him, he couldn’t.

“Think it’s time for bed.” Quickly he stood to his feet, Cas’s eyes following his every move as he made his way to the bathroom, swiftly shutting the door in one motion. Looking at himself in the mirror, he let his gaze wander back to his hands that were again gripping the edge of the sink.

_You got this. It’s one night, it’s gonna be fine._

Splashing cold water on his face, the refreshment washed over him with a sigh of relief. As he finished up his bedtime routine, he swung the door open to reveal the man resting under the pile of blankets sheltering him. For a second he stopped, wondering what could’ve possibly put him into such a difficult situation. He was just a kid, seemingly lost through the waves of life slowly drifting out to sea.

Soft footsteps paddled over to lightswitch, as he flipped it off with his index finger. The light from the streetlight beamed through the dirty window, casting shadows along the wall. Dean watched the shadows move with the trees outside, rough winds whistling while the patter of the rain became louder with each passing second.

“They used to scare me as a kid, you know. It’s bizarre to think how terrifying the most innocent of things can be.” Castiel rustled behind him, sitting up from his makeshift bed. Dean turned to face the man, slowly making his way to his own bed. Sliding onto it, he let his eyes meet the man in front of him.

“What scares you now?” Dean’s voice was soft and smooth, contrasting to the violent storm thrashing outside. Cas readjusted to sit further, up crossing his legs. He pondered for a second. There were many things he was afraid of. _Open water, spiders, heights,_ he could go on. But, reality takes the cake.

“Lots of things. Honestly, the world is a scary place. We’re surrounded by violence and war, it seems like you can’t turn your back without losing a piece of yourself along the way. I get the feeling you know what it feels like to have the world turn it’s back on you.” The words that fell from the man’s lips sent a pang through Dean’s chest, settling in his stomach like a rock. He couldn’t hold back the hollow chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

Leaning over to his bedside nightstand, he tugged on the loose drawer knob letting his slim fingers feel around for a second. He pulled out a heavy glass bottle, fingers wrapped tightly around the neck. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he gulped heavily a couple of times. The burn ran down his throat, letting the sting dance along his lips. Reaching his arm out, he offered it to Cas.

His eyes looked at the bottle hesitantly though, whatever ran thoughts ran his head didn’t change anything as he still grabbed the bottle and took a swig himself. Dean laughed softly, watching the man’s face as it contorted into a grimace from the bitter taste. Using his sleeve, he wiped at the corner of his mouth before looking up at Dean.

“What scares you?” The words were heavy, rolling off Cas’s tongue. Dean wanted to defy the question but instead, he thought about it. Cas answered honestly, why couldn’t he?

‘I can’t think of anything.” Dean replied, hands grabbing the all too familiar bottle to take another swig. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t admit it. The way that Cas cocked his head, puppy dog eyes gazing right through him made his stomach tie into knots. He wasn’t used to feeling such a way, usually being so in control of his emotions. It constricted around his heart, squeezing it tightly. Dean rubbed at the rough stubble along his jaw, letting his elbows rest on top of his knees.

“That’s not true. Everyone is scared of something, including you.” Dean looked up as a large hand rested upon his, catching the other man’s gaze. His heart began pounding, his breath quickening as his eyes shifted to watch the way their hands looked touching. So close to being intertwined, so raw in nature.

_And oh god, what was he feeling?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh okay i busted this out but i swear im gonna make chapters longer!! i was just so excited to post i couldn't wait but no worries, more chapters and content coming soon!! ;)

The feeling of their hands touching was electric, sending pulses throughout Dean’s body until he felt like he was going to explode. And with the way that Cas’s eyes looked, full of lust, he knew that the other man felt the same. Dean let his tongue slide along his lower lip. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back much longer. As they sat there, he felt something unfamiliar but- invigorating as it flooded his senses. And with that, he couldn’t help himself from going in.

Leaning forward just slightly, he let their lips touch. It was soft and tender. The way their lips slotted together and despite all the thoughts of wrongness that pounded through their minds, they couldn’t bring themselves to stop. It only got heavier and more heated, as Cas pushed himself up from the floor onto Dean letting their bodies meet, their heat radiating onto each other.

With every second, the air became more humid. Clinging to their skin, it sat heavy in the room while Dean’s rough hand placed itself on the back of Cas’s neck in hopes of pushing him further into this kiss. Dean had never felt like this, the need to be closer and closer to the man who laid on top of him. Lips pressed against lips perfectly, the men meshed together letting themselves dissolve in each other’s company. The trees still rattled against the dusty old window, but it was just white noise to them as reality seemed to slip out from under their feet.

“Dean”, Cas’s breath was wet and hot, fanning against the intoxicating pink lips just inches from his own. Dean let his gliding hands halt to a stop, resting them underneath the fabric of his loose t-shirt just above his hip bones. He thumbed at the protruding bone, circling it with his rough, calloused skin.

Meeting each other’s eyes, both men could hear the blood rushing through their body, pumping against their skulls. Cas watched the guilt and shame in Dean’s gaze, swirling amongst the green and golden flecks that ignited in the streetlight. He felt like he was scalded, pulling himself back from Dean so quickly he almost lost his balance. Luckily for him, Dean’s reflexes were much quicker and he felt himself being pulled back onto his feet by a strong arm.

“You’re ashamed.” Cas snatched his arm back to his side, willing the words not to sound wounded. Though, as he spoke everything begin to unravel. He could feel the embarrassment crawl up his neck and into his face, his scarlet cheeks visible against the darkness. The lull of silence was only the answer Cas had needed.

“It’s okay, Dean.” The soft words spilled out before he could catch his tongue. Letting himself settle back onto the pile of blankets underneath him, he could feel the sharp gaze resting upon him from above. _Don’t look at him- there’s nothing for you here_. His pale hands felt hot and clammy, clasped together waiting for a moment to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to give the wrong impression.” Dean rasped out for the first time, the sound of the old bed creaked under his weight as he shifted awkwardly.

Cas wanted to laugh. In fact, he wanted to laugh until he cried and had nothing left except the skin on his old bones. Instead, he kept his face stationary, all of his features stone-cold. All he could do was hope that his real emotions didn’t crack through his facade.

“Wrong impression..?” He asked tautly, his eyes fluttering to watch the man as he awaited an explanation.

“Yeah,” his lips parted as he took a shallow breath, “I’m no faggot.” Dean’s voice was low, refusing to return the gaze to the man sitting in front of him.

His blood ran cold at the sound of the words, each syllable stretched out in a painfully slow moment. The world and its entirety seemed to cease for a moment. Cas felt as if an elephant had sat atop his chest, the reins of the world wrapped around his neck again and again until the universe squeezed the last bit of breath from his lips. Bony fingers grasped the fabric of the blanket into a tight fist, reminding himself- _everything is okay_. He felt plummeted with the memories of his past. The good, the bad, everything that led to this moment.

“Of course. You couldn’t possibly be a- what did you call it?” Cas’s tone was overbearingly mocking, his intense stare set afire as the flames blazed watching the other man. Dean sat still and quiet, like prey under the eye of a predator, as if any movement would be the end of his pitiful life.

“Right. I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” The weariness of Cas’s voice reflected just how truly and utterly exhausted he was. And the fact that the other man just sat there, silently stewing in his juices. It was beginning to drive him mad.

Tucking himself under the blankets, he listened to the quiet shuffling and creaking from beside him. The sound seemed much louder now, as the once thrashing and pelting rain had begun to die down. It was eerie, the haunting silence that pooled throughout the darkness. Filling the house, the creaks and knocks became much more apparent in the olden home.

Staring at the wall, he let his tired eyes begin to slip closed. _Maybe when I wake up, it will all be a dream, just a dream and nothing more._ Pulling the blankets up further, he let out a sigh with the hopes that the morning sun would begin to peer through the window and shine amongst the dampened town.

-

The sound of dishes clattering onto the floor was the first thing to draw Cas out his heavy slumber, peeling his sleepy eyes open. The room was filled with warmth, the glow seemingly on fire from orange hues cast by the early November sun shining through the dusty window. Using his arms to pull himself up into a sitting position, he peered over to the bed that Dean once rested in to find it empty. That must’ve been the source of what had pulled him from his comforting sleep.

Stretching the sluggishness out of his limbs, he pushed himself onto his sore feet- resulting in a dull achy pain shooting up through his legs. Attempting to stifle the soft grunt of pain that wanted to roll off his tongue, he pressed his lips in a tight line, hoping the sound would shove it’s way back into his throat. As he moved to eye the slightly cracked door, the wafting smell of burning smoke slithered up Cas’s nostrils and he knew that _definitely_ could not be good. Shuffling out to the hallway, he peered down the long corridor, curiosity flooding his system. The sound of crashing dishes still reverberated against the walls, leading Cas to the kitchen where he found a frantic Dean quietly whispering a string of curses while he watched the thick grey smoke from the stovetop ascend towards the ceilings.

“Everything okay?” Cas’s voice was still thick with sleep, attempting to rub the blurriness from his eyes. Dean’s head snapped over his shoulder, letting out a nervous chuckle before turning back to the situation that had arisen in front of them.

“Yeah, yeah. I had a little- erm… a big problem with the stove. It seems like oil really _does_ catch on fire if it gets hot enough, I got it handled now though,” He examined the remains of the pan, brow furrowed together before he looked back to meet Cas’s stare, “I’m not much for cooking… if you can’t already tell.” His voice was slightly apologetic, letting his fingers reach out for the handle of the charred pan. Before Cas could utter a warning of touching it, Dean was already letting out a clamorous hiss as the pan clattered onto the floor.

“Oh shit. Are you okay?” Cas took a couple of steps forward, his hand reaching to grasp the other man’s. Examining the wound, it looked to be only minor. It was scarlet red and definitely angry, the handle had etched a perfect outline onto his hand. Though, it did just look to be a first-degree burn, as it hadn’t blistered as many second or third-degree burns would have. He looked up at the man, realizing he hadn’t gotten an answer to his question. Neither of the men pulled away, but Dean’s embarrassed gaze dropped to the pan that laid perfectly upright on his floor.

“I’ve been through worse. A lot worse. Nothing a little burn will do.” His smile seemed forced, the corners of his lips pulling up almost too tautly. Cas raised a questionable eyebrow to the man who was just a few inches from him.

“Do you have a first aid kit? I could help patch you up.” He let his fingertips run against the burn, feeling the warmth radiating from the wound.

“Yeah, it should be around here somewhere. Check underneath the kitchen sink.” Dean motioned with his head towards the cupboard, almost beginning to let himself miss the feeling of Cas’s gentle fingers against his palm.

Once he returned with the first aid kit, he forced Dean into a chair at the table and pulled one up for himself. Opening the box, he sifted through different items, examining each label intently before finally setting a few to the side with content. Dean couldn’t help but to eye him curiously, the way he seemed to slide into a mindset like it was almost force of habit. His fingers were oh-so gentle, the way he placed a cool cloth onto his palm, making sure to watch Dean’s expression for any sign of hurting or pain. Or the way he wrapped the bandage so effortlessly and precisely, soft fingertips working away as his eyes glanced between the wound and Dean’s emerald green eyes. Cas could agree Dean’s eyes were a distraction and he might not admit it but, he had to hold himself back at times. Whatever chemistry they shared with each other, it was dangerous. They could be arrested, or even _killed_. Who honestly knew what could happen if someone found out about their heated moment? Dean’s quiet voice breaking through his thoughts began to ground him back to reality, and it honestly made Cas a bit relieved.

“Where’d the hell you learn to patch up so well?” Cas finished up doctoring Dean’s hand and had begun packing the first aid kit up. He stopped in his tracks for just a moment, hands frozen on the gauze patches and medical bandage held within its grasp. Dean could be heard shifting uncomfortably from beside him for a second, realizing he may have hit a nerve with the blue-eyed man. Nevertheless, Cas didn’t feel like making the unfolding situation worse with uncomfortable silence polluting the air. He took a deep breath in, letting his chest push the air out between his slightly parted lips.

“Well, I went to medical school for a bit. Only for a few years. Once I graduated high school, I went off, got my degree, and ended up in med school. Honestly- I loved it. It was fascinating, learning about how much people could help others. I dropped out though, or more or so was pulled out of it.” The way Castiel talked about it, Dean could tell simply by his voice that it sounded like a distant dream. One of those dreams you have when you’re a kid, when you think that life is anything but what it is. Cas’s gaze dozed off out of the window, watching the way the Vasey grass in the field swayed from side to side, rippling in the soft breeze. If he closed his eyes and thought of the memory, it was almost like he could still feel it.

It felt out of place for Dean to say something in the lull of silence, as if he should simply let the other man reminisce in his mind without interruption. Cas was already one step ahead of him though, walking over to the cupboard to place the first-aid kit in its original spot. He slowly turned on his heel to face Dean, his facial expression unsure as he glanced at the broken clock on the wall. _Was it really that time already?_ Despite the cracks through the glass, the hands were still moving along in sync with a quiet ticking noise.

“Listen… is there any way you’d be able to take me into town? I’ve been walking for a while and to be honest, the thought of walking all the way into town makes me nauseous,” He took a small second, before motioning to Dean’s patched up hand, “Plus, it seems as if you owe me.”

Dean chuckled lightly, raising an eyebrow towards the man. Yet, still, he let his shoulders fall into a comfortable shrug, “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll get my keys.”

-

As they drove into town, Cas couldn’t help the feeling of being safe blooming from inside him. He watched the country landscape fly by from the window of the Impala. It was breath-taking. Even the little things. His eyes studied the fields of cows as they drove past, wanting to put a hand against the cold glass though, ultimately deciding against it as Dean seemed to treasure this car with his life. It felt different out here. Being from the city, everything was packed together as tightly as they could make it. The air was denser and heavier as it hung in the atmosphere, the sound seemed almost deafening at times, and everyone seemed so depressed as they walked along the street. As if it was just _‘one more day and I’ll make it through’._ But, here. It was almost like an alternate universe, where everyone seemed to know each other and care for one another. The open space made him feel free. The way the inky mountains towered over fields of golden for miles and miles, or the way the sun seemed to shine a little brighter and a little more glowy as if the sky had caught fire and the flames were reaching for the stars.

“You okay?” He heard Dean’s voice rasp out from beside him. Turning his head to look at the man, he smiled. He couldn’t help it, the genuine feeling of happiness swam amongst his brain and body, and he didn’t want to fight it. He wanted to accept it.

“I never realized how captivating the country is, it feels so… freeing.” Cas turned to let his gaze fall back to the images that passed through his window in a blur.

Dean watched for a moment from the driver’s side. Happiness was evident in Cas’s face, something he hadn’t seen since the poor boy showed up on his doorstep in search of shelter. The glimmer in the man’s eyes shined brighter than any star Dean had ever seen before. His face lit up while he stared out the window, passing little farms that were sat off of the road or small streams rushing with cerulean-colored water.

“How about some breakfast before you go? There’s a little ma and pa place known for their waffles around here. And considering my cooking ain’t the best, I think we could both use a little food-fuel.” Dean spoke as a matter-of-factly, a smile wide and proud on his face. Cas couldn’t help but agree to the proposal, letting his lips curl up in a smile to match Dean’s.

-

With bellies full, they sat at the diner willing themselves not to burst. Throughout their meal, they seemed to learn a lot about each other. Dean knew that Cas always wanted a cat growing up, fluffy and black who loved to cuddle on cold winter nights and chased around the birds in an early-morning spring day. Cas learned that Dean always wanted to be a writer, and he could almost picture it too. The sound of the typewriter clacking, splitting through the silence. He could virtually see Dean at his desk, eyes narrowed in focus with his brow furrowed, attempting to spill the right thoughts onto the pages in front of him. He tugged himself from the intoxicating thoughts, realizing that he was going to have to say goodbye to the man who sat across from him within the next couple of minutes.

“I guess we oughta be moving along soon.” Cas’s voice was soft and quiet, sounding disappointed at the thought of their journey together ending. Their smiles appeared to fall in sync, Dean lazily throwing a couple of bills onto the table as they slid out of the booth. As they walked to the Impala, there was a heavy silence between them that hung in the air. Even in the small amount of time, it felt like they had known each other for decades. Something about the way that they clicked when they were together, it was completely effortless. Cas didn’t feel the need to try at all with Dean, it all just _happened_.

“So… I guess this is it?” Dean’s voice was hoarse, the Impala keys jingling in between his slender fingers. The countryside that once looked so at-home felt so dim now, so solitary. It once felt ethereal, as if the grass really was greener on the other side. Now, it felt like a ghost town. Empty and lonely, each soul so far apart from one another.

“I guess so.” Cas spoke, fingers playing with the ends of his worn-down sweater. He didn’t want to look at Dean in the eye, if he did then it would all just feel too real.

“Well, I hope to see you again someday, Cas. And hey- if you’re ever in town,” Dean took a second, letting out a dry chuckle before meeting his gaze once again, “Don’t be shy.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!
> 
> sorry it's been so long, i didn't really know where to take this story but i hope this chapter is able to be enjoyed by you guys, i'm going to keep on going and updating this story! thank you guys for all the support!! <3

_ **December 11th, 1968** _

It had begun to snow lightly, the light sky shifting into darkness. A soft quietness fell upon the small town, while Dean sat and watched the flakes float by from his kitchen table. He couldn’t help himself, letting his eyes glance to the chair where Cas had once sat, pondering on its emptiness.

Attempting to force his eyes to focus on anything but the empty chair, he once again found himself watching the snow flutter onto the ground. It was beginning to stick, creating a thin layer of accumulation on top of the once charcoal-colored gravel, reaching out to the snow-covered fields.

Christmas was always one of the harder times of the year. He felt more isolated than ever before. Watching families pick out the tallest and fluffiest trees to bring to their homes. It was as if he could picture the scene unraveling in front of him, the kids eagerly unpacking the ornaments to place on the tree. Their parents scolding them after they’d sneakily eat one of the Christmas cookies before dinner. Yet, at the end of the day, they’d all curl up by the fireplace and put an Elvis record on, watching it spin as the sound crackled through the speaker. It would feel like a home.

He remembers how close his life got to having something like that, Sammy and him running down the stairs on Christmas morning almost tripping over their feet to beat each other to the tree. In fact, it seemed like a tradition for them to race to the tree each Christmas morning, even up until they were teenagers. Or at least- until Sammy got sick.

After that, everything changed. They would try to uphold the tradition despite extenuating circumstances. He remembers the Christmas before he’d turn twenty-two, a couple of years after Dad passed. He arrived bright and early to the hospital. Everything began to come flooding back into Dean’s memory like a silver knife driven straight through his heart.

The feeling of sitting outside in the icy cold air of an early winter morning, fingers numbly running over the gift placed neatly in his lap, was still lingering on his skin. He remembered picking out the wrapping especially for Sam. It was a dark ruby red, freckled with little Christmas trees.

He thought, _if he couldn’t bring Sammy to the Christmas tree, then he’d bring the Christmas tree to Sam_. But, it didn’t seem to matter. He was too late. Sam was gone, and would never lay his eyes upon the gift or the wrapping paper Dean had gotten especially for him, scavenging through the piles of rolls for hours until he found the perfect one.

He remembered feeling absolutely manic, screaming and shouting for his brother until he didn’t have a single breath left in his lungs. The weight of his body forcefully slamming into anyone and anything that tried to peel him away from his brother’s bedside. He remembered throwing Sam’s gift into the trunk of his beaten down car, sliding into the driver’s seat, and whipping out of the hospital parking lot onto the darkened road ahead.

It didn’t matter that it was dangerously icy, or blizzard-like conditions out. Dean didn’t really care. Or maybe he was hoping somewhere along his journey he’d crash and burn like a comet, going out in a blaze of glory.

The years following were the hardest thing Dean had ever had to endure. For once in his life, he was truly alone. He had no one, and the one person he was stuck with- he loathed. Maybe it was survivor's guilt or low self-esteem, but after Sam’s death, he couldn’t even bring himself to look in a mirror. He wished it was him six-feet under,_ not his little brother_.

As he began to fall down a rabbit-hole of familiarity, the sound of a frantic knock banging against his front door was enough to snap him out of it. Dean was fast to his feet, quickly pulling his handgun out from his waistband. Slowly, he crept over to the door and just as he got close enough to touch the knob, another knock, this time more sluggish, echoed throughout the silent house.

His rough fingers wrapped around the handle cautiously, reminding himself to keep his gun out of sight. He honestly didn’t want trouble. _That is_\- if he didn’t need it. With a swift movement, he turned the knob and pulled open the door.

A heavyweight slumped against it, swinging his door wide open with a _clack_ against the wall. There was Cas, collapsed onto the ground, blood trailing behind him up the steps and to the porch, ending at the door.

“Cas?! What the hell-” Dean slid his gun comfortably into the back of his jeans, squatting down to grab the man. Cupping Cas’s face in his large hands, he finally got a look at the damage the man endured. His eye was swollen and bruised, purples and yellows blooming out across the pale complexion. Letting his eyes travel around, he realized that the man was bruised many more places other than his eye. They were scattered everywhere.

But still, that wasn’t the worst of it. His sweater was blood-soaked, a perfect bullet hole ripped through the fabric and into his flesh on his lower abdomen. A dribble of blood rolled down Cas’s chin from his mouth, dripping off the carve of his jaw. The man was barely coherent, staring up at Dean, pupils blown wide with a lopsided smile.

“You said don’t be shy”, Cas’s words were soft and playful despite the circumstances of the situation they both knew they were in. Before Dean could reply, the man gasped out in a cry of pain. Weakly peeling his shirt up, there sat a deep hole that sliced cleanly through his flesh and was gushing blood steadily enough to place Dean in a state of complete panic.

“Oh shit, Cas. You’re bleeding a lot- I mean_ a lot_ a lot. We gotta get you to a hospital.” Dean turned to snatch his car keys from the counter but, before he could move any further he felt a weak hand grabbing at his own.

“No- No hospital. I need,” He took a strained breath, his lungs wheezing for air, “I need you to get me the first-aid kit.” Dean’s eyes met Cas’s, and at that moment he felt true terror. The same terror he felt when he watched Sam slowly slip away from him, standing by his bedside. The blue in Cas’s eyes was much less vibrant than he remembered as if the color was slowly beginning to drain out.

He couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. There was no way in hell Cas was going to be able to patch himself up in such a state, let alone with the minimal amount of supplies Dean had. So Dean did what he had to do.

“Fuck, fuck- okay.” Dean rushed to the closet, pulling out the first aid kit at record speed, finding himself kneeling next to the man who was losing consciousness faster than expected. Cas’s head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering closed as his body began to shut down from the trauma it was enduring.

“Cas… Cas?!” Dean's voice attempted to cut through the veil of unconsciousness, supplies scattering as he broke open the first-aid kit. He didn’t even know where to begin, setting aside some thread and a needle, a half-empty fifth of whiskey, and a roll of bandage. It wasn’t a lot but hopefully, it would be enough.

“Fuck… okay. Everything's gonna be okay Cas, I promise.” Dean’s voice was shaky, taking a deep breath before pouring the alcohol on his fingers, focusing as he began to dig into the bleeding wound, attempting to retrieve the lone bullet. With hands still covered in blood, he grabbed at the bottle and poured it on the wound, the anxiety within him striking up as Cas hadn’t even flinched at the action. With shaky hands, he grabbed the needle and thread, getting to work.

-

Dean sat beside his rickety bed where Cas laid, eyes closely monitoring his breathing as he watched his chest slowly move up and down. He wondered what could’ve possibly happened to the man. A sinking feeling sat heavy in his stomach.

_ It couldn’t have been because of Dean, could it? _

He hadn’t heard from the organization in years. In fact, the last he remembered of it, most of their people had either washed up dead or were never heard from again.

The motion of stirring beside him jump-started his heart back into a rhythmic beat of anxiety, watching as the man’s eyes fluttered open in a pool of crystal blue. Dean watched as an injured Cas attempted to sit up, his face contorted into a twisted expression of pain, letting himself fall back against the mattress. Dean put a soft hand on his shoulder, allowing their eyes to meet once again.

“Hey, hey- take it easy. You took on a lot of trauma.” Dean studied the man's face, looking for any sign of an explanation. But, instead, he got a soft smile and a tilt of the head

“Look who’s the med student now.” Cas’s attempt at light-heartedness was quickly washed away by the look of concern on Dean’s face, letting the smile fall into a frown. His eyes flickered to the wound for a mere moment, reminding Cas of the worry pulsing through his veins.

“You wanna explain?” He motioned to his battered body, an eyebrow raised. Cas let his rough fingertips brush along the bandage taped onto his abdomen, slowly moving across to the purples and yellows that blooming across the skin from the beating endured. It was much worse than he had initially thought.

“There’s truly not much to explain.” He coughed out weakly, a gut-wrenching pain shooting through his entire body as he attempted not to double over and vomit out what had been left in his stomach if anything.

“Who did this?” Dean’s tone was urgent, his heart sinking into his stomach as he watched the man from his bedside, not understanding who or why someone would ever hurt him. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, letting his thumb trace small circles against the hottened skin.

They hadn’t known each other long, in fact, they’d only met once, but that’s all it took for Dean to realize how special this man was.

“Dean-”, He took a pause, feebly trying to catch his breath, “It’s not important.” Dean could feel his heart clenching deep inside his chest as he watched the boy struggle. Cas’s eyes broke their gaze briefly, dropping to the bandage covering the patched up wound. A frail smile made an appearance on his lips, looking back up to Dean.

“Not bad… I’m actually surprised. You gonna tell me where you learned to patch like this?”

_ **December 18th, 1968** _

The feeling of Cas’s arm blanketing across his shoulder brought a blooming feeling of comfort throughout his chest. He supported the man (despite Cas’s arguments that he could walk perfectly fine) and let him plant each foot on the steps as they made their way to the front door, glancing at him every couple of seconds to make sure he was alright.

“Dean… ” Cas attempted to halt all movements once they reached the front door, Dean fighting against the resistance of the man. Firmly planting his feet on the ground, he breathed out exasperated.

“Dean!” His voice was much more resolute than before, causing Dean to stop in his tracks and turn to face Cas, who was looking up at him.

“I can’t- I can’t stay here with you,” Cas spoke softly, a tinge of pain shooting through his chest as he watched Dean’s face fell, “You’ve done too much already. I can’t ask this of you.”

“That’s funny you think you’re asking. I’m insisting.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he brought a large hand to the doorknob. Though, he quickly let it drop to his side, his senses immediately becoming alert. The door was cracked open just the slightest, but enough to kick Dean’s instinct into gear- that something was wrong.

“Somethings not right.” Dean’s voice had dropped multiple octaves, his free hand going to reach for the handgun that sat comfortably in the back of his jeans. He flicked the safety off, the click of it cocking stood out from the harsh silence that settled amongst them.

“What’s with the gun?” Cas spoke from beside him, his voice hushed.

Dean stayed silent, bringing his boot to the door, kicking it in forcefully while keeping his gun trained on the eerily quiet room before them. Turning to face Cas, he put a hand up as a nonverbal way of saying ‘stay-put’. Cas looked bewildered, not understanding how or why the situation had shifted so quickly.

Though, he obeyed Dean’s orders, watching as the man disappeared from sight, and stayed right where he was, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be too much help with a home-stitched wound and a broken body.

He reappeared moments later, sliding his gun back into its righteous place as he observed the trim of the front door, letting his finger slide against splintered wood where the doorknob once latched into. The little pieces of wood looked like they had exploded, signaling that whoever did this didn’t care about being careful, most likely quite the opposite. Dean signed, exasperated as he let a sweaty hand run over his face before allowing his chin to rest on the ball of his palm.

“It’s a warning,” Dean muttered, looking up to Cas as he reached a rock and a hard place.

_ Should he have told Cas what his past was like the first time they met?_

Cas looked at him, a puzzled look crossing along with his features. He let a bruised hand scratch nervously at the back of his neck, feeling the condensation from a layer of sweat stick on his skin. The air was chilly, winter air whipping against their skin, though the amount of anxiety filling their bodies was enough to warm the Arctic.

With furrowed brows, Cas replied, “Warning? From who?”

Dean straightened his back as he stood back on his feet, motioning his hand as he ushered Cas out of the cold and into the now uncanny darkened house. Cas followed the suit, stepping inside as the room was alighted by the flip of a switch, the true damage now being revealed.

It looked like an earthquake had shaken and rolled the house until there was near nothing left. Books from a variety of shelves were scattered, and thrown to the floor. Pieces of broken dishes littered the entire kitchen, shards of glass shimmering under the kitchen light.

Cas carefully dodged the debris that cluttered the floor, eyes spotting an envelope among the wreckage, words written in dark indigo ink scrawled beautifully. Shakily, his fingers reached to pick it up, squatting down as his eyes scanned the few words that were written.

Within a moment’s time, he stood silently, turning to look at Dean, a grave expression clear on his face. Dean’s eyes flickered between the letter that was shaking like a leaf in Cas’s grasp, and his crystal blue eyes, reading all the fear and alarm swirling amongst them.

Dean took a step closer, voice hushed, “What is it?”

“I think you need to take a look at this Dean.”


End file.
